We All Fall Down
by Center of the Galaxy
Summary: The sky is alight and angels are falling down. And regardless of who you are, your eyes can't look away. *Season 8 finale spoilers! Now, a full season 9 story!*
1. Guilt

_**Author's Note: **__The finale . . . Needless to say, it inspired me to write this. I'm not even sure what this is actually. A one-shot? The beginning of a full-blown story? I'm not really sure. I just knew that I had to write something. Mariah Tate is an OC of mine. All you really need to know is that she is a doctor and has been a family friend of the Winchesters since John saved her life from a vengeful spirit in her mid-20's. If you're interested in more of her story, she is featured in "As Time Goes By" which you can find on my profile. So, yeah . . . anyways, please enjoy!_

* * *

"_Sometimes I wish for falling_

_Wish for the release_

_Wish for falling through the air_

_To give me some relief_

_Because falling's not the problem_

_When I'm falling I'm in peace_

_It's only when I hit the ground_

_It causes all the grief."_

—_Florence + the Machine, "Falling"_

* * *

It was glorious.

Thousands of angels hurtling towards the hard ground, their wings alight and illuminating the pitch black sky. Metatron smiled as he heard the former angels cries, felt their grief and pain as they were forced to cope with the loss of their grace. They were mortal now and were subjected to all the torture that humans endured. With a flick of his hand, he could wipe them all out, even more easily than he had destroyed Naomi. Even now, her lifeless eyes stared up at him. The fool hadn't expected him to overpower her, but he had learned from the countless stories he had heard on Earth. He gained knowledge from his father's favorite creations.

"It's wonderful, Father," He breathed as he saw a younger blonde angel hit a tree as she skidded to a halt on the ground. "I wish you could see this."

God had taken off, left for who knows why. In his wake, he had caused heartbreak and chaos. Heaven had never been the same since he left . . . it had been controlled by crazy archangels who never understood the precious gift was humanity. Well, now they would experience it first hand. Yes, it was revenge for being forced to flee Heaven so many years ago and he would be lying if he didn't admit that the stories he would get from these now fallen angels would help sustain him for the next hundred years.

But, that wasn't really the point.

The angels—his brothers and sisters—didn't truly appreciate the gifts that God had left them. They had squandered Heaven, almost let the world be engulfed by the apocalypse and they had tried to control humans as if they were God.

"No more." The last remaining angel breathed.

There was a new sheriff in town.

And if anyone tried to restore order—if those Winchesters dared to try to undo all the hard work he had invested into this—he would kill them.

Simple as that.

He leaned back in Naomi's chair and chuckled as he glanced at her body.

"Looks like you lost, huh?" He remarked. "They've all fallen."

No more angels.

No more fighting.

Maybe . . . maybe God would return now. Maybe he would reward Metatron for his hard work with restoring order back to Heaven. If he would come back . . . if only he would come back.

"What is it that those humans sing?" He asked Naomi. "You can't always get what you want?"

But he got what he needed—revenge.

Now, he just had to sit back and enjoy it all.

* * *

"Jesus, can you believe this?"

Mariah faced the window and glanced up at the sky. The news was calling it a surprising meteor storm, but the good doctor knew better. Meteor storms didn't suddenly show up—they were figured out in advance usually—and they sure didn't happen all over the world simultaneously. No . . . this was something else though for the life of her, she couldn't figure out what.

"Get away from the window, Hannah." Her young apprentice—a grad student from Harvard who also wanted to one day own her own clinic instead of work in a giant hospital—sighed and stepped back, letting the curtain fall. They were alone in the clinic and Mariah had thought that maybe they could do some paperwork tonight, but something was up.

"Dr. Tate, what do you think—?"

A crash with an impact that sent shockwaves through the small clinic cut her off. The machines flickered and the lights dimmed before returning to full strength. In a few seconds, Mariah had grabbed her bag and was running out the door, Hannah on her heels. On the ground, a young woman shook as blood poured from her head.

"F-father, w-why?" Her eyes were glazing over and within a few seconds, she was dead.

"People are falling from the sky!" Hannah exclaimed and Mariah followed her gaze. She could see hundreds of men and women hurtling towards the ground. What was going on here? "Dr. Tate!" Hannah's eyes met hers and the older woman pushed down the fear that was threatening to claw out of her. She had to be strong for Hannah's sake.

"Get inside!"

"But what about—?"

"There's nothing we can do for them, we have to—" A man pummeled through the roof of the clinic, causing it to cave in. Hannah gasped and Mariah instantly had a firm grip on the younger woman's arm. They had to get to somewhere safe!

But with people falling from the sky, nowhere was safe.

Still, they ran nonetheless.

_Sam, Dean, I hope you two are okay._

* * *

Tied to the chair, Crowley the mighty King of Hell watched through the window as his enemies plummeted to Earth. He knew he should feel happy at this—no more angels meant that he could truly wreak some havoc—but only a small part of him rejoiced. The rest of him felt guilty and even more than that, grief. Angels were the protectors of peoples' hopes. They granted miracles and gave some people a reason to keep going day after day.

And now . . . they were falling, most of them dying as they hit the ground in their mortal forms.

"I am so sorry." He whispered, a tear rolling down one of his cheeks. He had turned his back on Heaven so many centuries ago, but now he understood just how much he had messed up. He wanted to die if he couldn't be cured. He had killed so many people! There was so much blood on his hands and he would never be clean of it.

He had almost killed Jody Mills just because she was a friend of the Winchesters. That woman whose eyes had lit up when he had shown up at her table, who had slowly been falling for him and what had he done? He had stuck a hex bag in her purse and tried to kill her.

And now, Sam was dying.

That was the catch-22 with the trials. You died if you managed to succeed because God believed in that whole ultimate sacrifice thing and you died if you didn't finish the trials because cowards didn't deserve to live. Sam Winchester wasn't a coward though and neither was his brother.

Was it so wrong to want to see your sibling live? Was God really that heartless that he believed that death was the only way to complete a trial? Sam had saved his life tonight and what could Crowley do to help?

Nothing.

He wanted to be cured.

He wanted to be freed of the darkness that lurked within him.

But, Sam was dying and Crowley was tied to a chair and the angels were falling so, he settled for the one thing he could do.

"Father, forgive me for I have sinned."

* * *

"No, this can't be." Castiel murmured as he watched his brothers and sisters fall from the Heavens and land harshly onto the cold ground of Earth. Their cries of sheer agony echoed in his ears as they were harshly torn apart from their wings for no reason other than Castiel had once again ruined everything.

Naomi had been telling the truth.

Metatron had taken his grace.

And now, angels were falling and there was nothing he could do. He was mortal now and subjected to the same perils and joys that came with being one. He could nothing to help his siblings; he could not ease their suffering. He had to take down Metatron and if he died in the process, then so be it.

_If Sam completes those trials, he is going to die._

"Sam," He whispered, urgency lacing his tone. He had nearly forgotten, but he had left Dean at the church. What if Dean had been too late? What if Sam was nothing more than a corpse now? Castiel had done so much harm to the youngest Winchester, between believing him to at one point be an abomination and breaking his fall, that if he died now because Castiel had been so intent on following Metatron's orders then his soul truly deserved to be damned to Hell. "Sam, Dean, please."

He had to go.

He had to get to them.

With one last look at the sky, he forced himself to focus on the task at hand.

He had to get to that church at all costs.

* * *

"Sammy?"

Muddy hazel eyes met his green ones and Dean breathed a slight sigh of relief. Sam's heart was running a mile a minute and his breathing was beyond fucked up, but he was holding on.

_I've got you little brother. You're going to be just fine. _

Dean just hoped it wasn't a lie.

"Cas?" Sam choked and was coughing again. The eldest Winchester tilted him to the side, hoping to allow the passage of air would be smoother this way. Still, if anything, his younger brother looked worse. He was pale and sweat shone on his forehead. He had forced him to abandon the trials to save his life, but even now, Sam was slipping away farther and farther into a realm that Dean couldn't pull him out of. Sam needed a hospital, but with the angels tumbling down as they were, Dean wasn't sure if the best course of action was to drive.

"I don't know," He replied because he honestly didn't. Castiel had gone to the back of his mind once Sam's life had been put on the line and while he was worried for his friend, he could only focus on one thing at a time. He had meant what he said to Sam—he would always put his little brother first. "We need to get you some help."

"D'n?" Sam wheezed, weakly squeezing his older brother's wrist and tears pricked at his eyes. It reminded him of a much younger Sam asking his brother to read him a bedtime story. Now, Sam was asking for strength and comfort, someone to guide him through the storm. Without any hesitation, he grabbed his brother's hand within his own, squeezing it, showing support.

"You just stay with me, you hear?" The world was crashing and burning around them, but they had each other. They had survived the apocalypse and had dealt with rogue angels and the King of Hell. They could handle this—they would find a way to handle this.

Henry Winchester had been right all along.

_As long as we're alive, there's hope. _

The sky might be falling and everything they knew might be burning around them, but for this one moment, they were together and alive. Tomorrow wasn't set in stone. They could still go out there and fix things. Sam would get better, they would find Cas and they would fix things.

_Look after your brother._

_ Yeah, Dad, I always do._

He pulled Sam closer to him, counting each shallow breath that passed from his lips and waited for the storm to end.

* * *

_**Author's Note: **__I really liked the finale. Though, it's going to kill me to wait so long until new episodes. Anyways, that's the end . . . or is it? I could keep going if people are interested. I'm going to label it as complete for now, but if I come back to this I will label it as in-progress. Please review if you have a second! _


	2. News

_** Author's Note: **__Okay, this story has been nagging at me ever since I posted it. This will now be my summer pet project. It will be completed before the season 9 premiere, as I'm sure that that episode will render this whole story AU. Anyways, what can you expect? Well, definitely some hurt!Sam and lots of brotherly moments, but I will tackle the issue of all the fallen angels and Crowley and all that jazz. My goal is to try and make this my take on what season 9 could be like. I hope you will stick with me for the ride!_

* * *

"_Don't be afraid_

_I've taken my beating_

_I've shared what I've made_

_I'm strong on the surface_

_Not all the way through_

_I've never been perfect_

_But neither have you."_

—_Linkin Park, "Leave Out All the Rest"_

* * *

Jody could only watch with wide eyes on her hospital room television. The sound was muted, but she could read the headline. They were calling it a freak meteor shower, but while she might've been hurt, she wasn't broken. Those weren't meteors—those were people and if she didn't know any better, she would say they were angels falling from Heaven. She had never met an angel before—she had heard plenty about Castiel, the Winchesters' angel friend from both Bobby and the boys, but she had never officially met him or any other angel.

"It's weird," The elderly man in the bed next to her rasped, pointing a veiny hand at the television set. "It's like the damn sky is falling." Jody nodded her head and winced at the brief flare of pain that it caused. She had been found unresponsive in the bathroom of that restaurant that she had attended her date with. Major blood loss, but no other trauma they told her.

They were calling her a miracle patient.

She was sure Sam and Dean had something to do with saving her.

"Boys." She whispered, moving to reach for her purse with her cellphone. Using electronics was against her floor's policy, but she would be damned if she didn't check in with them. Truth be told, she had gotten fond of those two boys. Some deep part of her wanted to help them, be useful to them. She supposed that was just her mothering instinct flaring up again, but what could she do?

_"This is Dean. Leave a message." _

"It's Jody," She sighed, feeling pained at being unable to get ahold of them. "I just . . . look, if you two need anything, you call, understand? I don't know what's going on, but you're not alone in this." The sheriff hung up, not at all pleased by a lack of response. Still, she just had to have hope.

Around her, people continued to fall from the sky.

She just hoped Sam and Dean weren't caught up in the middle of it.

* * *

Garth couldn't believe what he was seeing.

His phone had been ringing off the hook for a good 15 minutes now as hunter after hunter from every state called to demand what the Hell was going on.

_"People are falling from the sky!"_ Amber informed him, her voice shrill. If she sounded panicked, bad things were going down because she had been in the life for nearly two decades and had seen plenty of things over her years being a hunter. She was retired now, but she called occasionally, to check in on things. _"What the hell is going on, Garth?" _

"I don't know," The usually relaxed hunter confessed, voice tight with strain. He was a laid-back guy, but occasionally, things did bother him. People falling from the sky tended to be one of those things. His cellphone rang and glancing at the caller ID, he quickly forced himself to grab it. "Look, Amber, I have another call—"

_"Don't you dare hang up on—"_

He hung up on her and placed his cellphone to his ear.

"Dean?" It had been a few weeks since the eldest Winchester brother had checked in and the news hadn't been good. Sam's conditioned has worsened dramatically since the completion of the second trial and Dean had asked him to call in some contacts and see if they knew anything that could help ease the youngest Winchester's pain. He hadn't found anything, but he knew Sam and if anyone could pull through and survive it would be him. He had later been updated and told the third trial was Sam's key to making a full recovery. "You and Sam okay? Do you—?"

_"Garth, it's Sam. I'm too far from the bunker and I need someone who won't ask questions." _Dean's voice sounded broken, as it contained none of his usual bravado or charm. Grief colored it now and Garth's heart sunk. Something had gone wrong. Sam was hurt badly.

"Yeah, yeah," He grabbed Bobby's worn leather contact book and began to flip. "Where are you?" A whimper filled the line, followed by Dean's reassuring voice.

_"You're okay, Sammy. I'm going to get you some help. Just hold on," _Then, louder as he turned to speak into the phone. _"We're near Parsons, Kansas." _Garth nodded to himself, flipping to the doctors he knew were located in that state. _"Hang on, Sammy, just relax, okay?" _The whimpering grew louder and Garth forced himself to work faster.

"Okay, guy named Tim O'Connor is about a half hour from you. I'll text you his address. He's not a hunter, but he won't ask any questions."

_"Okay, good." _Dean sighed softly, obviously pleased at this.

"But, Dean, what's going on? I thought the third trial was going to—"

_"It was going to kill him, Garth," _Dean told him sharply, his tone making it clear that there would be no discussion on this subject right now. _"I just . . ." _

"I get it, man," Garth told him softly. Dean and Sam had paid their dues over and over again. They didn't deserve any more crap, yet destiny seemed to have other plans. "Just . . . call me when he's settled. Crazy stuff is going on—" Dean laughed mirthlessly.

_"Angels are falling." _

"What—?"

But, Dean had already hung up, leaving Garth to gape and wonder what exactly had just happened tonight.

* * *

"You think . . ." Sam gasped, oxygen suddenly scarce and his eyes widened as that awful feeling of suffocation settled within him. In a few seconds, it had passed, but Dean's hand was now gripping Sam's within it and his remaining hand tightened on the steering wheel as they flew down the highway.

"Don't talk anymore," Dean ordered sharply. "Just breathe." If Sam had the breath, he would laugh because no doctor could help him. This was just delaying the inevitable and he knew that his oldest brother knew that. The trials would've killed him if he had succeeded and now they were killing him because he had quit. Maybe the demon tablet should've labeled this a suicide mission.

"You think Cas is okay?" Dean glared at him, but Sam couldn't bring himself to care. His body was alternating from fiery hot to icy cold and his head felt like it was floating away. Angels were still falling from the sky and they were racing away from where Crowley was still tied up as if they could somehow outrun this whole ordeal.

Well, Sam had tried that when Dean's deal had been coming.

It hadn't worked.

"I don't know," The eldest Winchester replied. "Just focus on you, Sammy. You just hang in there. We'll fix you up, okay?"

He wondered if Dean had said the same things when he had been dying in Cold Oak. That death was different than this one—it had been quick and sharp. This was prolonged and death was simmering within him, waiting for the moment to boil over and take him away from all of this.

He didn't want to die.

But, it seemed like Winchesters never got the choice in the matter of what they wanted. Henry had wanted to go back in time to be by John's side, John had wanted to bring down that demon that had killed his wife and now, Sam wanted to live. They were Winchesters though; their lives were drenched in blood and broken promises.

"Dean?"

"I said to stop talking, Sam—" He wasn't angry though and Sam knew that. Anger was Dean's default mode when he was scared and right now, he was white knuckling it as they broke nearly every speed law limit known to man.

"I love you."

If he was going to die, he wanted his brother to know that.

"Sam—" Everything about his brother's posture and expression screamed, _don't do this to me, not now_, but the words had to be spoken.

"Just . . . needed you to know in case—" His voice broke off as a coughing fit racked through him. Blood dribbled down his chin and onto the leather seat. Dean was speaking frantically to him, but his voice was muffled. He blinked a few times at his brother, but his vision was still cloudy.

_I just want you to know, Dean. _

"Sam, no—!"

_ I never wanted to leave you._

Then, he blissfully blacked out.

* * *

_**Author's Note: **__So, I hope you enjoyed! Please review if you have a second! _


	3. Fate

_** Author's Note: **__Thank you so much for all the support! Please enjoy this next chapter!_

* * *

_Where do you go when you're blue?_

_Where do you go when you're lonely?_

_I'll follow you_

_When the stars go blue." _

—_Tim McGraw, "When the Stars Go Blue"_

* * *

"What the hell is going on?" Kevin whispered as around him alarms sounded and were only silenced for a few seconds when an angel made impact with the ground. It was a horrifying sight to see—wings alight and melodic screams piercing the silence of the dark night—and the prophet felt himself sinking to his knees. He probably would've flopped over if he had not been holding onto the railing. "Sam, Dean, no."

Naomi had been right all along.

They had failed.

All Kevin had to show for his efforts were a dead mother and a world full of fallen angels. Despair lost out to sheer fury as it began to course through his veins. How was this fair? How fucked up had God been to allow angels to screw with peoples' lives and then just take off? So many people had died to keep the world safe from a mess that God had allowed to happen. Now, even before his life became something other than normal, Kevin had never been one that truly had faith. He had liked to believe; however, that if you did good deeds, you would be rewarded. The wicked would be punished and the good guys would get their just reward.

Only, he had gotten nothing but heartache and misery and he was supposedly working for the good guys. He wasn't naïve; he knew life wasn't fair, but somehow, he had expected it to be so much more than this.

"Why?" He whispered a broken prayer to anyone who might be listening. The only thing that had kept him going had been the belief that once the tablets were translated, he could go on his merry way. Yeah, it wouldn't bring his mom back or his girlfriend, but it was a chance to start over and be safe.

Castiel had been right—he was a prophet for life and he would never get out.

And as the angels continue to plummet, Kevin Tran held his head in his hands and cried.

* * *

Charlie had never seen something as so beautifully frightening as the falling angels. It hadn't taken her long to figure out that's who the people were—she and Dean had discussed angels at length once over the phone and she had been studying their lore recently—but what she didn't understand was why they were falling. Last time she checked, thousands of angels hurtling towards the surface was a really bad thing.

So, something had obviously gone wrong.

But what?

"Please," She breathed, unsure of what she was asking for. In the next few seconds, she had her phone out and Dean's number punched in. It rang for a few seconds before going to voicemail. "Dean, it's Charlie. Look, I don't know what is going on, but I can help. I'm not sure how . . ." She twirled a strand of her hair as her voice trailed off, but quickly focused. "I'll find you and meet up with you." She hung up and forced herself to move away from the window of the hotel suite she was staying in—why the boys stayed in cheap motels was beyond her—and her fingers flew over the keys.

This was where she had always been the most comfortable—in front of a computer screen with lines of code staring at her. Here, she was a goddess who could shape the world around her. Here, she wasn't the geeky girl who couldn't land a date to save her life.

Here, she could help people.

"Okay, boys," She mumbled, tracking the signal on Dean's phone. "Where are you?" A few more keystrokes and she had her answer. She read it a few times and re-entered the commands just to make sure she had it right. "No, this . . . this can't be right."

The problem was that it was correct.

Charlie might've been a screw up in her real-life, but she knew how to make computers do anything. And this computer was telling her that Sam and Dean were in a hospital in Kansas. Decision made, she threw her stuff into her duffel and slammed the laptop closed.

She had no idea what was going on, but the sky was literally falling and Charlie would be damned if she just sat by and let the Winchesters work through this one by themselves.

"Alright," She smiled softly, trying to push down the worry that flared up at finding out that the boys were in a hospital. "Let's go."

She flicked out the light and hurried to her car.

* * *

Castiel knew enough about being a human to figure out how to find the main road and how to get a ride. Unfortunately for the now fallen angel, no one seemed keen to pick up a hitchhiker, let alone drive when people were falling from the sky. In fact—aside from other former angels—Castiel hadn't seen any other people. It seemed that they were heading the warnings from the local authorities to stay inside until the chaos had passed.

"Fools." He mumbled, forcing his now sore legs to keep walking down the side of the road. Sam and Dean needed him and he wouldn't fail them now, not again. A small car speed down the road and the former angel tried to get the driver's attention, only for it to drive past. "No." He couldn't let himself get discouraged. He had to keep moving and he had to find the Winchesters.

He had to know if Sam was alive.

If he wasn't . . .

"Castiel?" A voice called him and he froze as the driver of the small car rushed towards him. She was a petite redhead with expressive eyes and she quickly took in his appearance.

"Who are you?" He had to be wary now—he was a mortal.

"I'm Charlie—"

"I know," He interjected because he did. Sam had told him of the young woman who loved all things "geeky" whatever that meant. She had helped them recently and though he had never met her, she was an ally who could be trusted. And frankly, he was out of options at this point. Whether she was here by fate or just mere luck, he would take it. "I just . . . what are you doing?"

"I'm on my way to Sam and Dean," Charlie told him quickly. "Are you . . . I mean, do you—?"

"I'm human now," He confessed, shame coloring his tone. "I require a ride."

"Sure," She said with a small smile and a chuckle. Flustered, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before biting her lower lip. Then, regaining her courage, she met his gaze once more. "We'll take my car. Hurry."

As she ushered him into the vehicle, Castiel stared up at the sky—at his former home—and wished that he could've done things differently.

* * *

_**Author's Note: **__Next chapter will focus on Sam and Dean. I might throw in a bit of Metatron too, but we'll see what happens. Please review if you have a second! _


	4. Calm

_** Author's Note: **__I've been suffering major writer's block. Hopefully, this chapter will help me get over it. Please enjoy this chapter!_

* * *

"_What do I do, what do I say_

_And no else to blame_

_All I can hear in the silence that remains_

_Are the words I couldn't say."_

—_Rascal Flatts, "Words I Couldn't Say"_

* * *

Garth's friend takes one look at Sam and drives them to the local E.R.

He gets them admitted and settled in no time flat due to his apparent connections with the hospital staff and then vanishes soon after they are put in the room to go help run Sam's tests and keep them secure in case any supernatural anomalies show up. He's a good guy, Dean notes, if not overly talkative.

Still, he helps them and that's all that matters.

It's an hour after they are admitted—an hour after the angels fell, their cries echoing in the night sky, an hour after he managed to save his brother only to watch him collapse in front of him—that Sam finally speaks. The doctors have ordered tests and the two brothers are currently waiting for the blood work that Dean knows won't shed any light on his little brother's situation. They've managed to stabilize him and while Sam's hooked up to God knows how many machines, he's breathing steady and his heart rate is normal.

Dean counts his blessings.

"Maybe this is how it was always supposed to end." His little brother muses. He's high on painkillers, though ever since he got out of the Cage they never affect him like they used to. Still, they dull the pain and that's all that matters.

"What, Sam?" The eldest Winchester is sitting in a worn leather chair that had clearly seen better days. It's ripped up and it's hard, but hey, it works and that's what matters. He kind of likes it to be honest. This chair is a survivor—it's seen better days, but it's not gonna quit now.

God, he needed some sleep. He was comparing himself to fucking chair. He hasn't slept in at least 24 hours and now the adrenaline is starting to wear off now that Sam is out of immediate danger. Sure, he has no idea where Cas is or what he was supposed to do now, but his number one priority was safe.

His family was alive and safe.

"I mean, yeah, it's a different place," Sam continues on, as if he hadn't heard Dean. "But I did want to be normal and it is normal here." His hazel eyes are glazed somewhat over, but it's nothing compared to the way it used to be before the Cage. The doctor had to up Sam's dose twice just because the medicine wasn't having an effect. Gone are the days when a simple shot of medicine would send Sam into a babbling, hilarious mess. Now, it's still brooding Sam speaking, but it requires a bit more effort to decode him.

Effort that Dean has a hard time providing because he's so fucking tired.

"Sam, what the hell are you talking about?" His little brother immediately locks onto his gaze.

"Me, dying."

And fuck, if that doesn't wake Dean up, nothing will.

"What?" He manages to get out because last time he checked, Sam was going to be okay or at least, his condition was stable.

"I mean, I should've died in Cold Oak—"

"Sam—" Dean begins in a wary tone as the images of his little brother's broken body falling into his arms fills his mind. The mud had been so cold, as cold as Sam's skin as they had taken him to the car. The sky had been as black as Dean's heart the moment his brother's stopped beating.

He will never go through that again.

They went out together or not at all and right now, nobody was dying tonight.

"I don't blame you for saving me," His little brother continues, oblivious to what his words are doing to his older brother. "But I think Fate must've been pissed off, don't you think?"

Yeah, it had occurred to him once that maybe Fate had a score to settle with them, but he had never worried about it.

Unless, Sam had a point.

Was this some sort of sick revenge that Fate had organized?

"Sam, I don't—" Dean tries again, wishing for this conversation to stop.

"Do you think it'll hurt when I die? I mean, it hurt before, but now that I have pain meds, it should be—"

"Just shut up!" Dean explodes, rising from his chair. His little brother stiffens and acts almost child-like, shying away from his brother. Immediately, Dean regrets his actions. "Sam, I'm sorry, I just—"

"S'okay, D'n." Sam slurs, eyes drooping.

"Listen to me," Dean persists, voice strong, yet tone soft. "You are not going to die, okay? You are going to fight." His little brother chuckles dryly, dissolving into a cough and suddenly, it's all too much. Sam is slipping away right in front of him and this time, there's no hope of being cured. "Fight for me, Sammy. Promise."

He's resorting to begging and promises—standard girly behavior.

Yet, if it were for Sam, he would do that and more as many times as needed as long as it kept his brother safe and alive.

Sam falls asleep before he can reply.

Dean just settles for holding his hand—chick-flick moments be damned—and waiting to see what would come next.

* * *

"What is going on?" Hannah keeps asking as they speed down the highway and practically abandon the clinic. It saddens Mariah to have to do leave the only place she ever truly felt at home, but she couldn't risk her safety by staying. If the place didn't fully cave in first, looters surely would. No, the best course of action was to get away and regroup with Hannah. "Dr. Tate, those people—"

"Take a deep breath," Mariah coaches as she takes one herself. Panic is desperately clawing at the edges of her sanity, begging her to let go and relinquish control. "It's going to be okay."

"How do you know that?" Her intern practically screams, voice laced with frustration. "People are falling from the sky!"

"You need to trust me."

"You know I do, but—!"

"Hannah," Mariah meets her frightened friend's gaze and smiles gently. "You can do this." This seems to reassure her and the young woman nods her head.

"Where are we going?"

"I have two friends that might know what's going on—"

"What is going on?" Hannah interjects; Mariah shakes her head.

"It's best if they explain it," The doctor counters. "Just . . . hang on, okay?"

"Okay." Hannah leans back in her seat and Mariah sighs gently. She has no idea what is going on or whether Sam and Dean will have any more clue than her, but it's worth a try. If there were a way she could be useful, then they would let her know. The media was covering it up and if she went to any "impact zones" as they were calling it, she was sure to be turned away. Truth was, the government had no more idea of what was going on than she did and were trying to minimize mass panic.

But . . . if people were falling from the sky, what did that mean?

What was going on?

And, more importantly, would Sam and Dean even be able to fix it?

"We're going to be fine." Mariah whispers and Hannah nods, though the statement is more for her benefit than her intern's.

"Dr. Tate, look out!"

The man appears out of nowhere on the road and the doctor swerves out of the way and slams on the breaks. Hannah screams and Mariah closes her eyes and waits for the impact.

The impact that never comes.

"What—?" She breathes as she opens her eyes and sees the car is totally fine. In fact, it's perfectly on the road, as if she hadn't swerved at all.

"But that man—" Hannah protests.

"I believe you're going my way," A Scottish voice hoarsely whispers as the man from the road suddenly stands at the driver side window. He smiles through cracked teeth and bloody lips. "Hello, Mariah."

Crowley, the King of Hell, is standing beside her.

* * *

The air in the car is awkward.

"So, um, are you okay?" Charlie asks and then mentally kicks herself because, duh, that's a stupid question, of course he's not okay, he's human!

"My physical injuries are minor and will heal." He replies mechanically. His gaze is locked on the road and part of Charlie just wants to reach out and pat his shoulder and reassure him that everything is going to be okay. She doesn't know that though, but she wants to believe that everything will be okay, somehow, someway.

"Do you know what happened?" She's fiddling with the radio, but all the channels are doing emergency broadcasting on the "meteor shower" and she decides that she has heard enough of that for one night.

"I made a mistake," Castiel answers gravely, voice full of regret and tinged with anger. "And Heaven paid the price."

"It will all work out." She tries to muster up the conviction that is needed for this statement, but she falls flat and the former angel seems to retreat further into himself.

More awkward silence.

"You have . . ." He hesitates and Charlie waits, trying to be encouraging. "You have spoken to Sam and Dean?" She shakes her head.

"No, but I tracked down their GPS."

"To the hospital." The way he says "hospital" with such devastation in his voices makes the redhead want to cry in a dark corner until all the bad things go away.

"They'll be fine."

"The third trial was supposed to end with the death of the participant," Castiel blurts out and Charlie's eyes widened. She opens her mouth to speak when Castiel holds up his hand for silence. "Dean stopped him, but I fear that it will not be that simple."

"You mean, Sam could die?"

"Perhaps," The former angel concedes. "No one has ever attempted this before."

"Fuck." She swears under her breath and then increases her speed.

"My sentiments exactly." It's not a particularly funny statement, but Charlie has always laughed when she was under pressure and the way he says it strikes her in a certain way. She laughs dryly and Castiel huffs out a relieved breath.

She just has to focus on one thing at a time and not worry about the what-ifs. It was just like any other quest on _World of War Craft_. If you tried to jump too far ahead, you would forget about leveling up and then the boss battle would cream you.

She could do this.

She _had_ to do this.

And glancing at Castiel, she feels a little bit stronger. He was counting on her—her boys were counting on her to do this.

"I've got this." She whispers to herself.

Reinforcements are on their way.

* * *

_**Author's Note: **__Next chapter, more info on Crowley! Please review if you have a second! _


	5. Updates

_** Author's Note: **__I'm super excited to post this chapter! I hope you enjoy it!_

* * *

"_It is much, much worse to receive bad news through the written word than by somebody simply telling you, and I'm sure you understand why. When somebody simply tells you bad news, you hear it once, and that's the end of it. But when bad news is written down, whether in a letter or a newspaper or on your arm in felt tip pen, each time you read it, you feel as if you are receiving the bad news again and again."_

—_Lemony Snicket_

* * *

12 hours after the fall, it was over.

The sky, which just hours earlier had been alight with the sight of blazing angels hurtling towards the cold ground, was now dark. A few wisps of dawn could be seen over the horizon, but Garth simply shook his head and took a sip of his coffee. His phone had been ringing non-stop with concerned hunters asking a million questions, but the one person he had wanted to hear from most hadn't called.

"Hope you guys are okay." Garth whispered as he poured some more of the lukewarm liquid into his cup. He hadn't heard anything from the two Winchesters since Dean's phone call asking for help. He was hoping that no news was good news, but he couldn't help but feel like something awful was going to happen.

The phone rang and immediately he picked it up.

_"Garth, it's Tim." _Dread filled the pit of the normally relaxed hunter's stomach. Tim had been the man that he had sent the Winchesters to and if he was calling instead of Sam or Dean then something was wrong.

"How is Sam?" He cut to the chase because he had to know, had to hear the words before he let his mind run away with him and jump to the worst-case scenario.

_"He's resting at the local hospital," _Tim replied dutifully and Garth cursed. If they were at a hospital then Sam was in really bad shape. _"He's stabilized for now, but Garth, the doctors have no idea what's wrong with him. All they've been doing is running tests and monitoring his heart."_

"His heart?" Garth echoed.

_"They think . . ." _Tim faltered, clearly unsure if it was his place to say the next few words to Garth. Finally, after a moment of indecision, Tim took a breath in and finished his sentence. _"They think that Sam's heart is failing." _

Garth allowed himself one moment of shock and grief to bubble up before he pushed it back down. He couldn't lose it, not now, not when the Winchesters would need him. He had to be focused, he had to be objective, and he had to figure out a way that Sam would be okay. The trials had obviously messed with Sam more than he had ever expected and if the third trial hadn't gone as planned then something supernatural was affecting the youngest Winchester's health.

He could handle the supernatural.

He just had to focus and not panic.

Sam would be fine.

"Does Dean know?" Because that would devastate the older brother and Garth selfishly wanted to be the one to tell him instead of a cold and detached stranger. Dean deserved better than a man in a lab coat telling him that his brother was going to die unless his heart was fixed.

_"No, not yet," _Tim replied and Garth could hear his friend nervously shifting his weight around. The man had always had a hard time standing still when something bad was going on. _"They're still running tests to eliminate other things, but Garth, I know the symptoms and so far, Sam's matching all of them." _

"I should go to them—"

_"Garth, you have to run the phones," _Tim, ever the voice of reason, reminded him. _"With everything that's happening, someone needs to help relay info to everyone else—"_

"Screw everyone else!" Garth shouted, sudden anger overtaking him. "Those two brothers have sacrificed everything for this damn world and I won't just sit by and let—"

_"I'm not saying that," _Tim soothed and Garth's rage calmed somewhat. He shakily sat back down in his chair and took a few calming breaths. _"Look, if anything changes, I'll call you, but for now, you're needed there." _

And damn it all, he knew Tim was right.

"Just . . . call me if you hear anything else."

_"You've got it." _The line went dead.

Garth wished Bobby was still alive. The gruff, older hunter would know what to do now. He would be able to handle the angel situation and the one with Sam easily, of that Garth was sure.

But no, now it was all on Garth's shoulders.

"Hang in there, guys." He whispered.

And the phone rang again.

* * *

"You sure you feel up to being discharged?" Nurse Mary asked yet again as Jody signed herself AMA. If the sheriff were honest with herself, then no, she was not ready to go, no way in Hell because her head was pounding and her ribs felt like someone had stuck glass in-between them. Still, she had to get out and try to help Sam and Dean. Here in the hospital, she was useless. She refused to sit by and let those boys give themselves for the world again.

This time, she was going to support them fully.

This time, she would finally be of help to them.

Ever since Bobby died, she had spent a lot of her time feeling guilty. Why hadn't she ever told him about she felt? Why hadn't she done more to help him? She refused to go back down that dark road with the Winchesters. Truth be told, she viewed the two of them as her own. Maybe a few near-death experiences with the same people would do that to you or maybe it was simply the mother in her longing to take care of someone else.

Maybe it was just because she was tired of being alone in this world.

"Ma'am?" The nurse tried again, holding the paper and pen out. "Are you sure?"

This could be the most foolish thing that she had ever done. It would probably get her killed, but she would be damned if she just sat by and did nothing. No, those boys needed her and she would be there for them. Whatever the hell was going on wasn't natural and she was going to get to the bottom of it with them.

"I'm sure." Jody answered strongly.

Then, she signed the papers and headed outside, ready to help find the boys.

* * *

Charlie did her best to make small talk with the former angel, but she found that she wasn't very good at it. To be fair, she was sure that this probably wasn't the time to be making small talk, but the silence unnerved her. She was worried and afraid for the boys, freaked out at all the bodies that littered the road and how some of them moaned as she drove by, and honestly scared. She had been a loner for so long, drifting from town to town, that she had never allowed herself to form attachments.

Sam and Dean had changed that. She wanted to be herself around them, wanted to make a life for herself because of them. She was done with running now, but only because they had taught her that you could only run for so long until your past caught up with you.

"Castiel?" The former angel didn't meet her gaze; his blue eyes just stared blankly ahead. She wondered if he was in shock. After all, seeing all his fallen brothers and sisters must've done a number on him, right? "Um, we're here." She pulled into a parking stop and turned off the car. He nodded his head and then fumbled with the door before almost falling onto the pavement. She was up and at his side in a few seconds, her own door slamming behind her.

"Hey, are you okay?" She inquired, slightly worried for him. Was he shaking or was it simply her imagination?

"Fine," He replied tiredly. "Let us get to Sam's side." He began to walk towards the door of the hospital and Charlie hurried behind him. The woman at the front desk directed them to the ICU and the two of them began to look around when she saw him.

"Dean," She breathed. There, in the last room on the hall, sitting in a well-worn chair, looking absolutely exhausted and face laced with worry, was the eldest Winchester. At the sound of her voice, his head lifted up and his green eyes met her gaze. She shot him a small smile and he stood up. "Hey there."

"Charlie," He murmured and she instantly stepped into the room and threw her arms around him. He stiffened for a few seconds before returning her embrace. "What are you—?"

"Dean." Castiel began and immediately Charlie broke off the hug and stepped back. The eldest Winchester glanced at him for a few seconds before sheer fury consumed him. The next thing Charlie knew, Castiel was on the ground and Dean stood over him, his fist outraised.

"Stop!" Charlie exclaimed, vainly trying to pull the eldest Winchester away from the fallen angel.

"Why, Cas?" Dean growled, voice breaking. "Why'd you do it?"

"Dean, I'm sorry—"

"Sorry?" He echoed incredulously and Charlie wondered if things were about to go from bad to worse. "You would've let Sam die to prove a point about Naomi! Now, he's in the fucking hospital and instead of closing the gates of Hell, all the angels have fallen and Metatron is in charge!"

"I did not know that Naomi was to be trusted—" Castiel replied, voice strong though the young woman could see the toll this argument was taking on both of the men.

"You know what?" Dean began tiredly, sitting back down in the seat next to Sam's bed. "I'm done. Until Sam gets better, I don't want anything to do with any of this."

"Dean, please—" Castiel pleaded.

"Just . . . stop." The eldest Winchester whispered, as his head fell into his hands. Then, without another word, Castiel left the room.

"That wasn't very nice." Charlie informed Dean, though she realized that this probably wasn't the best thing to get in the middle of. Still, if he heard her, Dean didn't reply. She turned her attention to the sedated Sam and her heart broke at the sight of him. She had thought he had seemed sickly after the end of the second trial, but now, he looked like a corpse. His skin was pale with dark bags under his eyes and he was horribly underweight. "How is he?"

"They're running tests." He informed her automatically, his tone mechanical like a robot.

"What do they think it is?"

"They think . . ." He bit his lower lip and blinked hard, as if trying to prevent tears from appearing. "They think it might be his heart."

Shit.

Charlie didn't know anything about medicine but she did know that needing a new heart was practically a death sentence and that was even if you were able to have the transplant surgery. She doubted that a man in Sam's condition would even survive the surgery.

"You're not alone in this," She started, forcing her voice to sound strong though deep down she was so unsure. Placing a hand on his shoulder, she shot him a confident grin. "You've got people looking out for you."

And Dean just grabbed her hand within his own and smiled.

Charlie counted it as a win.

* * *

_**Author's Note: **__Next time, more Castiel, more Kevin and more Metatron! _


	6. Choices

_** Author's Note: **__Sorry it took so long for me to get this up! Real life became insane. Anyways, here's chapter 6 and I'm so glad that a lot of you are enjoying my take on season 9. Please enjoy this chapter!_

* * *

"_I remember when we used to laugh about nothing at all_

_It was better than going mad_

_From trying to solve all the problems we're going through_

_Forget 'em all_

_'Cause on those nights we would stand and never fall_

_Together we faced it all."_

—_Skillet, "Those Nights"_

* * *

"Heart failure?" Sam repeats, his eyes down cast, his fingers idly picking at his left hand as he processes the words that the doctor has spoken. They seem so foreign on his tongue and so wrong. Old people got heart failure—not a young guy who was in the prime of his life. Garth's friend nods his head, his own expressions clouded with pity and almost grief. From his spot in the opening of the room's door, Dean can see that the guy doesn't want to tell his little brother this more than Dean did, but the doctors had run test after test and this was the only thing that matched Sam's symptoms. "What does that mean?"

"Basically," Tim starts, his voice calm, his expression schooled. "Your heart isn't pumping enough blood and oxygen to your organs."

"I see." Sam's biting his lower lip now, a trait he kept from childhood. It shows that he's thinking about what his next move will be, what he should do next with the info he has. The eldest Winchester wants nothing more than to go into that room, grab Sam and get in the Impala and drive until the memories of this place are far behind them. However, no amount of running will change what has happened.

The trials were going to kill Sam if they had been completed and now, they were killing his little brother anyways.

"Spying's not very becoming, Dean." A voice chirps and startled, he steps back from his spot and faces Charlie. The hacker smiles tiredly at him and then hands him a cup of steaming coffee. He nods his head before taking a sip of it. He splutters out a curse because, fuck that stuff was hot! "Why am I not surprised you just did that?" She chuckles before angling her head in to see a glimpse of Sam and Tim. A frown graces her expression and she nervously grasps a strand of her red hair and twirls it around her finger. "He knows?"

"Yeah." Dean wishes there was someway to undo all of this—to save Sam from whatever fucked up thing the trials had did to him—but so far, he had turned up nothing. No one had even attempted the trials, much less survived them to come up with a way to prevent heart failure from occurring. Tim had said Garth was looking into things but Dean wasn't holding his breath.

"He'll be okay," Charlie tells the older brother firmly. "You two have been through worse, right?"

"You tell me, you've read the books." He mutters dryly and is rewarded by a small grin.

"Heart failure isn't exactly a death sentence," She begins quietly and the eldest Winchester stiffens. She places a reassuring hand on his arm and squeezes it tight. "I mean, there are lots of ways to treat it besides surgery—"

"Cut the crap," He interjects and she winces sharply at his caustic tone. Sighing softly, he runs a hand through his hair. "Sorry, I just—"

"I understand." She replies, smile back in place.

"I just . . ." He takes a deep breath in, holds it and then exhales slowly, trying to gain some control of his emotions. He couldn't lash out at people that didn't deserve it, not now, not with Sam's life on the line. "If I lose him—"

"You won't." She promises, stepping closer to his side.

"You don't know that!" He snaps.

"I know you two though," She begins with a wry grin tugging at the edges of her lips. "Dean, you and Sam have been to Hell and back. No way will heart failure be able to stop either of you." The way she says it, so passionately and sure makes Dean laugh. Not just a chuckle, but a full on laugh, and damn, it feels good to laugh again. He had been running on worry and fear ever since he found out about the adverse effects of the trials and sure, he's still worried and yeah, in a few minutes, this moment of levity will pass.

But for this one moment, he can pretend like Sam is okay and Charlie came to visit and told an incredibly nerdy, yet still funny joke.

For this one moment, Dean can pretend like his world isn't crashing and burning around him.

Just for a moment.

* * *

"So, how does it feel, Castiel?" The fallen angel spins around, reaching for the angel blade that he dimly realizes is not there. After being ordered out of Dean's sight, Charlie had led him to the cafeteria and had bought him a sandwich that, to be honest, had not looked all that appetizing, but he had accepted it. He's human now; he needed to eat like one. The kind redhead had told him to remain here for a bit until Dean calmed down, though the former angel doubted that would be anytime soon. "Is it exciting? Disappointing?" From the shadows, Metatron steps, a cocky expression plastered on his face. The crowd of people, a moment earlier so noisy, is suddenly frozen and the realization of Metatron's newfound powers sinks in.

He was like a god and it was all Castiel's fault.

"What do you want?" He growls through clenched teeth. He knows he'll never be able to fight against his former friend and he figures that if he were to die here, it would only be fitting. His stupidity had allowed Metatron's rise to power and caused the downfall of countless angels.

"Is that anyway to treat me after I've given you such a gift?" His enemy asks, shaking his head as with a wave of hand, he summons a throne to appear and he sits upon it. Seeing Castiel's disgusting expression, he chuckles. "Too gaudy?" He waves his hand and the throne disappears entirely. "Now, come and tell me of your experiences as a human, Castiel."

"Never." He hisses and Metatron chuckles.

"Still angry about the whole using you to expel all the angels from Heaven, huh?" He muses and then shrugs his shoulders. "If it makes you feel better, you were just the first angel I had run into in over a millennia. It could've easily been someone else—"

"Leave me alone." Castiel wants nothing more than to tear this piece of trash from limb to limb, but to even attempt so would be suicide. He doesn't have the power or the weapons to do so and more importantly, he has to be there for both Sam and Dean. The Winchesters need his help and if it were the last thing he did, he would repay them for all their kindness they had showed him. He had made mistakes, that much was true; but this time, he would truly atone for them. Until Sam got better, until he fixed the mess he made in Heaven, Castiel wouldn't allow himself a moment of respite.

He had to fix things once and for all.

And he wasn't going to throw his life away in the slim chance that he might be able to take Metatron down.

"Aw, c'mon Castiel!" Metatron says jovially. "Sit with me a spell. Tell me of your first impressions of being a human." The angel's expression changes slightly and his gaze darkens with something sinister. "Heaven is so quiet now, I must confess that I have only Naomi to talk to." Castiel's brow furrows. Naomi was dead, wasn't she? And if she was and Metatron still had her . . .

Castiel had gone crazy once, corrupted by absolute power. He had taken souls that he had no right to and in his madness he had tried to kill Sam and Dean. He had caused damage that he had not known he was capable of. If Metatron was heading down that path, Castiel didn't want to know what could occur.

"I—"

"Ah, hold that thought," Metatron starts, pursing his lips. "It seems that I have other business to attend to." He grins at Castiel. "Until next time."

And in a flash, he's gone and the crowd is moving as if nothing had happened.

"Castiel?" Charlie is standing before him, face drawn in a worried expression. "Is everything okay?" No, Castiel thinks, nothing is okay. Metatron was slowly losing his mind and no one had the power to stop him, Sam was dying, Dean hated him and to top it all off, there was nothing he could do to fix any of this.

"No." He whispers.

He had lost all hope and that in itself was the most devastating blow of all.

* * *

"You rang?" Metatron calls out in a singsong voice and Kevin lets some relief course through his system. Finally, this would be over. He could be freed of this curse and attempt to make some normal life for himself. He had sacrificed too much and he wasn't about to stand by and let his life continue like this. Wearily, he glances up at the sky, dawn starting to streak the sky and he tries to find some peace. As soon as the angels stopped falling, Kevin had gotten out of the bunker and had just walked as far as his legs would carry him. He's in the middle of the woods now, but honestly, he doesn't care.

He just wants out.

"I don't want to be a prophet anymore." His tone is dead, his expression lifeless. He feels like he's already dead on the inside, but then again, having your hopes dashed would do that to you.

"And you want me to do what, exactly?" Metatron asks him, regarding him curiously. He appears pleased at the prophet's disheveled appearance, but honestly, Kevin doesn't care. If he could make him be normal again, then it would all be worth it.

"You're the one who wrote the tablets," Kevin begins carefully. "You have to be the most powerful angel right now, so it stands to reason that you can un-make me a prophet." The angel pauses, thinking over his words before tossing his head back and laughing.

"Oh, you foolish boy," He says, clearly belittling Kevin. "You really think that if I made you a normal man, you could live happy life?" The teenager bites his lower lip and looks away. "Kevin, you've seen too much. Even if I had the power to change you—which I don't—you'd still be miserable."

"But—!"

"You know how to get out of this life," Metatron continues, voice sinister as he snaps his fingers and a dagger appears in Kevin's hands. "Make your choice." Taking a few steps back, the angel stops and grins. "Oh, and Kevin?" The boy looks up and meets his gaze. "I look forward to seeing what the rest of your story holds."

And in a flutter of wings, Kevin is left alone once more.

* * *

"So, Mariah, what have you been up to?" Crowley asks from his seat in the back and the doctor tries not to let her fear appear visible. She could handle the King of Hell. He was letting her drive to Sam and Dean, after all. He didn't seem too concerned with them at all, apart from asking about her health and inquiring about who her student was.

"Nothing much." She tries to play along with whatever game Crowley is playing, but it would be remiss to hide the fact that she is seriously on the edge of a nervous breakdown. Since when did the King of Hell—who had tried to kill her once before—make small talk? Since when was he so concerned by how she was feeling?

What the hell is going on here?  
"Still have that clinic?"

"We did," Hannah interjects with a sigh. "Until a man crashed through the roof."

"A man crashed through the roof?" Crowley echoes, his eyes filling with concern. Mariah would be lying if she didn't admit that his concern was creepy and off-putting. Was he trying to kill her with kindness or something? She really wishes that could get ahold of the boys and figure out what she should do. "All that business was dreadful stuff."

"Like you care!" Mariah blurts out and then clamps her mouth shut because she had learned never, under any circumstance, to talk back to the King of Hell. God, she's going to get her and Hannah killed—

"Dr. Tate!" Hannah exclaims, shocked by her mentor's sudden loss of her cool.

"No," Crowley dismisses it with a genuine smile. "It's alright. I understand why you're afraid of me, Mariah, and really, it's fine." Then, his gaze hardens and fills with sadness. "But I've changed. I'm just trying to figure out what to do now."

She wants to ask more questions, to get to the bottom of this.

Yet, her main priority was Sam and Dean and if Crowley wasn't going to stop her, then she would continue heading there. True, bringing the King of Hell to where the boys were located was probably a bad idea, but it wasn't like she had any choice. She didn't have any of her "supernatural" supplies—they had all been in the clinic.

She had to trust in the boys.

And as she listens to Hannah laugh at one of Crowley's jokes, Mariah resolves to figure out how to fix everything.

It was time to pay back the boys.

* * *

After using her connections as a sheriff—really, it had been too easy, a thought which makes her worry if someone else could do what she did—Jody finds out where her boys are. It takes her a few more hours than she anticipated getting the boys—damn Crowley for injuring her—and yeah, she's a bit worse for wear, but as she heads toward the nurse at the desk, strength courses through her.

If there's one thing she's good at, it's taking care of people.

All her life, Jody had tried to protect the people that mattered to her—her husband, her son, Bobby—and all she had to show for it was a broken heart and three graves. She refused to let it be that way with Sam and Dean. If it was the last thing she did, she would keep them safe. The way she saw it, the world owed them for everything.

"He's in the ICU," The nurse tells her with a sympathetic smile. "You're family?"

"His mother." She replies instantly, the lie coming off her tongue so easily. She supposes she should be ashamed that she's resorted to this, but she wasn't about to let a stupid policy get in the way of seeing her boys. The nurse believes her instantly—it's not like it's a hard stretch to believe with Jody's eyes misting over as the stress over not knowing what was going on hit her—and soon, the sheriff finds herself standing in the door of the room. Sam's there, lost in thought as he stares out a window. A redhead young woman is passed out in a chair beside him, a blanket carefully tucked in around her. A faded copy of _Lord of the Rings_ lies on the floor next to her. Dean is asleep in the other chair, a blanket also put around him. His sleep is far from restful though and he keeps tossing and turning.

"Hey." Jody whispers as she steps into the room. Sam startles and meets her gaze and despair hits the older woman like a wall. The youngest Winchester is so sickly—skin pale, bags under his eyes, and so skinny. It's been a few months since she last saw them both and while she knew Sam had been sick, she never knew just how bad.

"Jody?" Sam whispers, voice caught between worry and amazement. "You're okay." He nods to himself, as if he's glad that something worked out.

"Of course," She replies with a small grin. "And you?"

"Fine."

"Bullshit." Sam chuckles at that.

"It's nothing to worry about—" Dean stirs and immediately, Sam stiffens. After a few moments, the eldest Winchester settles back down and the little brother sighs.

"I'm glad to see you," Jody confesses, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I hope you have room for one more?"

"Of course," Sam replies immediately. "Always, Jody."

Jody just beams.

* * *

_**Author's Note: **__Next chapter, more on Kevin! Please review if you have a second! _


End file.
